Doctor Who_ Transit - Ben Aaronovitch [5]
'Everybody stand by,' said Dogface.
Blondie took a deep breath and accessed the system.
'I can taste something.'
'What?'
'Cinnamon, I think.'
'Relax, Blondie,' said Lambada, 'that's just static.'
'She's loading up,' said Dogface.
Blondie could see the train through the link. The train, designation IW56 series 2 class B, mass 14,000 kilograms at 1 gravity. Sensors in the carriage floor counted the footsteps as the passengers boarded. Thirty-one passengers adding 2,325 kilograms, under the average for the station and well within safety parameters.
The door-closing hooter sounded in the real world and almost snapped Blondie out of the link.
The train's field regulator charged up, and the gateway field flickered and strobed as air molecules were sucked into the tunnel. Then with ponderous grace fourteen tonnes of metal, ceramic, copper and human flesh surged forward to start its journey through subspace.
'Did you get that?' asked Dogface.
'I saw it,' said Lambada, 'but what was it?'
'We lost fifteen seconds on that transfer,' said Old Sam.
'Was it the regulators?' asked Blondie.
'Screw the regulators,' said Dogface. 'Somebody's stealing power from the tunnels.'
Lunarversity
Max had his place in an unfinished side tunnel off Yeltsin Plaza. The entrance was blocked off with a repeating hologram of a crate shack, complete with a family of destitute Australians. To get in Kadiatu had to step through the potbellied girl who endlessly came to stand in the doorway every two minutes or so. Max called it his taste barrier. Inside Max was kneeling half naked in front of a fan, his nose pressed against the grill, dirty blond hair blowing over his scrawny shoulders.
'Lend us some money,' said Kadiatu, moving behind Max to catch the breeze from the fan.
'What have you got?' said Max.
Kadiatu was stuck. Max would take anything. His shelves were piled with junk, ring pull cans, software, sim tapes, litre jars of preserved fruit, packets of suspicious pharmaceuticals. If it could be sold, bartered or used. Max did.
'Nothing,' said Kadiatu. 'I want a loan.'
'Go to a bank.'
It was a tough opening move and Kadiatu, haggling from a position of weakness, played for time. 'There's a recession going on,' she said, 'or hadn't you noticed?' Important to find what he wanted from her, he must want something or the bargaining wouldn't have started.
'Things are tough all over,' said Max.
The dismissive tone was a bad sign; whatever he wanted Kadiatu wasn't going to like it. 'If you can't help, you can't help.' Kadiatu went to leave, and the bastard let her get right up to the edge of the hologram before speaking.
'Your body, six hours,' said Max.
Big mistake. Max, thought Kadiatu, should have named the price and let me sweat. Now I know what you want. But how badly do you want it?
'No chance,' said Kadiatu and stepped forward.
'You haven't asked how much?' said Max quickly, too quickly.
Kadiatu turned with deliberate slowness, let him see the merchandise, all those muscles, all that grace. Bad weakness, that, wanting to be what you're not. Max had twisted to stare at her, making the tendons stand out on his thin neck; he was trying to hide the hunger in his eyes. No mercy, though; Kadiatu, it's a dog-eat-dog world and the richer you are, the more dog you eat.
"You couldn't afford the price.'
'Nothing kinky,' said Max. 'I just want to walk around in it for a while.'
'Just to walk around in?' said Kadiatu, and then, just to show willing: 'How much?'
'Piece of a deal,' said Max.
'What's the deal worth?'
'Twenty thousand.'
'And I get?'
'Fifteen per cent.'
She squatted on her haunches so that their eyes were level. 'Tell you what we'll do,' she said. 'I get the fifteen points as a loan, you get six hours walking-around time in my body if I don't pay back within three months.'
She could see Max fighting himself. It was a terrible deal for him, but he wanted it. Wanted to spend six hours wrapped up in her skin. His weakness, her strength.
'Deal,' he said.
When they shook hands on it, his